


When All is Said and Done

by Sarcastic_Raspberry



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, Other, other characters are involved but they're not priority, their relationship is really only mentioned tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcastic_Raspberry/pseuds/Sarcastic_Raspberry
Summary: The war is over and Overwatch has won.Now it's time for the old to make their peace as they leave this world.





	1. Chapter 1

There was a deafening thud that spread over the room as a black form hit the ground. Reaper pulled himself up on his arms, mask knocked up only just so as he pointed his shotgun in front of him.

It was kicked out of his grip faster than he could blindly pull the trigger and a smaller pair of handguns stared him down.

“It’s over, Reaper,” Tracer said, her pistols fixed where they were as she shot him a bright smile.

He considered summoning another before footsteps brought his eyes to look around the room.

They were all standing there now, looking down on him. Some of them held smiles that were equal in their brightness. Others looked at him with indifference, and then there were the chosen few who glared at him.

A glare of Reaper’s own deepened, shielded by his mask. His eyes scanned the room from bottom to top, catching sight of a blue and purple figure in the window.

He watched her with a grin for some time, a warped smile growing as he held his breathe.

“What  _ are  _ you looking at?” Symmetra asked, eyes narrowing as she gave him a stiff glare.

“Me.”

The sound of Widowmaker’s voice surprised him at first. It was dangerous for a sniper to give away her position. He flinched to jump up when he saw a cord swing down into the room, planning to latch onto it. This movement was halted when, instead, Widowmaker slid down on her own, landing at Tracer’s side.

“The fool thinks I’d still help him,” her yellow eyes peered down her nose at him. “Tch, even after he left me for dead.”

“I was doing you a favor and leading them off!” he said. “I never thought they’d find you and turn you into one of them.”

“We didn’t turn her into anything!” Tracer said.

“They helped me remember who I used to be.”

He clicked his tongue and gave a gravelled chuckle. “So what? You’re going back to being Amelie then? You think it’s that simple?”

“No. They helped me remember who I used to be, and then I helped myself by realizing that I’m not that person any more than I am the Widowmaker. In a way, you helped me realize that too, so I suppose I should thank you.”

She raised the barrel of her own rifle to point at him. It was hard not to catch the way Tracer tensed.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“It’s as I said, I’m thanking him,” her finger settled on the trigger. “Thank you, Reaper.”

“Stop that!”

The voice cut through the room, voice hardened with age and steps as quick as they were lumbering before the hooded figure pushed her way past Widowmaker and Tracer.

“Ms. Amari, I know we have our differences,” Widowmaker said, “but even you can’t begin to argue with me when I say that this creature is a lost cause.”

“This  _ man  _ is an old friend of mine.” She looked at Reinhardt and Torbjorn where they stood in the lineup before she added, “He’s an old friend of  _ ours.” _

Torbjorn lowered his eyes while Reinhardt looked down shamefully for a moment.

It was only then that he realized they would have sooner watched him be put down like a dog than step into help.

It was only then that he realized they still had a few of their good senses.

Ana turned and he looked up at her face, as gentle as it was worn. She kneeled before him to take a single knee.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked.

“You can  _ not  _ be serious,” Symmetra said.

“Yea! He’s the  _ worst  _ of the  _ worst!” _ D.VA chimed.

“I’m dealing with this my way,” she called over her shoulder. “Come on, we’ve given plenty of chances to those who we once called our enemies!”

Reaper could swear he heard her knee crack as she stood. 

When did they get so old?

“Ya know, she has a point there,” Junkrat said, mouth brought into a wide grin. “Still, tall, dark, and loony doesn’t seem like a perfect bedfellow to me, there.”

“I know you all have your reserves,” Mercy finally cut in, “but we can’t just kill him in cold blood.”

Of course she couldn’t kill him. She was never able to just let him die.

“We could always take him into custody,” Winston said. “The UN is still letting us maintain our own holding cells. We could keep him there and-”

“I’d like to see you try it, you stupid monkey,” Reaper hissed, still not standing from his position on the ground. “No one is taking me anywhere. You might as well put a bullet in my head now.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Widowmaker raised her gun once more.

“Don’t even think about it!” Ana snapped, gently swatting the barrel before it could point at his face.

“You don’t know him like I do,” Widowmaker said. “You know the man he used to be, and I know the monster he became. This thing is no more a man than a rabid, wild dog.”

“There’s more to him than that! We just need a moment to lead in and let him find himself again.” She turned and hunched over to peer at him. “I know you’re angry, Gabriel.”

“The name’s Reaper.”

Her face hardened. “Don’t pull that with me.” After letting out a deep sigh, she dropped her voice so that only they could hear. “I know you want revenge. I know you feel like no one wants to listen to you, but understand that  _ I  _ do. I want to know why you decided to go down this path.”

“You think I  _ decided _ to become  _ this?” _ he said, voice morphing to more of a dark rumble.

“I think you decided how you were going to react to it,” she said. “You have every right to be hurt and confused by what happened to you- I know that, Gabriel.”

“I’m  _ not  _ Gabriel Reyes.” He looked down. “Not any more.”

“Of  _ course  _ you are,” she said in a whisper. The corner of her good eye was pinched with crow’s feet, and he could see the soft glisten as it began to water ever so slightly. She dropped her voice low so that only he could hear her. “You’re the man who threw a blanket into my office when I wouldn’t go back to my quarters, and tucked it around my shoulders when I found myself too good for it.”

He looked down.

She kept her voice low. “You’re the man who I found curled up with my daughter in her bed because I was late getting back from a mission and you decided to wait up with her.”

“That isn’t  _ me.” _

“Yes it is, Gabriel.” she said, a hand reaching up for his head. “You’re that man. You’re the man who took in a young boy who was willing to throw his life away and gave him meaning. You’re the man who snuck flavor packets in with your MRE and shared with me.” Her hand clasped around the edge of his mask. “Don’t you remember?”

He trembled and flinched backwards.

“This is ridiculous,” Widowmaker said. “He doesn’t want to remember. He’s too far gone.”

“I said the same of you,” Ana said, “and look how you turned out.”

McCree smiled and nodded as he stepped away from the line up. “I agree, let’s give the big guy a chance.”

“A chance?” Reaper echoed. “You mean like I gave you only for you to turn on me you disrespectful little-”

“Turn on you?” he asked. “When did I turn on you? I wasn’t the one who up and played dead for ten years!”

“Woah, let’s bring it down a bit!” Tracer said, guns up and pointed to the ceiling as she put her arms out. “Now, Ana’s right, Gabriel’s still part of the Overwatch family! We all are!”

“Stay out of this brat!” Reaper said, bringing himself up to his elbows this time. “You don’t know anything about this family! You were never part of it to begin with! You just stepped in and took the places of two great people who were far more deserving of being called my family!”

Ana’s eye widened. “Gabriel, you don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do! I mean it!” He turned to Tracer again. “They just sent you in as a warm body for their fleets. You, and that monkey, and that  _ abomination.” _

Genji flinched at Hanzo’s side while Torbjorn narrowed his eyes.

“So that’s what it all comes down to, huh?” he asked. “You think this is what they would have wanted? Is that it?”

“You can’t bring back the dead, Gabriel,” Reinhardt said, voice a bit more weary than his usual bravado.

“You don’t need to tell me that!” he yelled, “Why not look at our good doctor instead? It’s her fault you’re even looking at me right now!”

“I did my best to save you,” she said.

“That’s the problem.”

“Let the ghosts lie, Reyes!” Torbjorn said, eyes softening ever so slightly.

“Oh, just forget them like you all did?” he asked, venom dripping in his voice.

“We never forgot them!” Ana said, easily stilling the room. “Gabriel, did you think we forgot? For a moment?”

“All Overwatch does is forget,” he said. “I was fine when it was just me. When you all forgot me and they shipped me off to that hell hole of a branch. It was fine- we were all still here. Then nine turned into seven, and they couldn’t even wait for their graves to grow cold before they slapped in three fresh faces to fight their battles for them! It wasn’t fair, and it still isn’t!”

“I know, Gabriel, I know,” she said. “It must have hurt, and we all braved through it.”

He slumped against the ground and, for a moment, there wasn’t a soul in the room who didn’t pity him.

“After they joined the team,” he continued, “Things only got worse from there. Blackwatch was severed completely.”

“We were all busy,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t branch out more to see you.”

“It wasn’t just you,” he looked up at her. “The UN- the world- they were against us from the beginning. They didn’t want a stealth ops- they wanted a group of bad guys to serve as a scapegoat for the next war if it came. They wanted to turn me on you and you on me! They almost succeeded, too! All thanks to your perfect commander.”

“Do not speak ill of the dead,” Zenyatta said as he hovered just behind Ana. “It is in poor taste.”

“Jack did nothing to you,” Reinhardt said. His voice was uncharacteristically sharp. “I could never understand why you two turned on one another the way you did.”

“Really? You can’t wrap your thick skull around the fact that I should have been the head of Overwatch! Not him!”

“Wait one second,” Lucio stepped forward, rocking on his skates as he said, “I thought you just said a minute ago that you didn’t mind getting switched out to Blackwatch.”

“I didn’t mind,” he hissed. “I didn’t mind when I thought it was just a job. I never thought he’d abandon me there. Then he left two of our friends out there on the battlefield. After that, I started looking at things differently. No man should be able to smile into a camera after burying his friends. Then, after he left us, he left you.”

Though his face was still finely concealed, Ana could feel his gaze bore into her very flesh when he looked up at her.

“He left you, and then left me again to tell your daughter what happened while he ‘dealt with the morale.’ That’s how he put it you know, after everyone thought you died.”

Ana swallowed the lump in her throat, eye scanning the room for a familiar patch of red, white, and blue. The patch was nowhere to be seen, and she eventually let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Overwatch had gone through a lot,” she said. “We’d all been through so much together. Jack had lost as many friends as you had, believe it or not. He just prefered to bottle up what was happening to him, that’s all.”

“Bottle up? Is that what you call not having emotions at all?”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ talk about him like that,” Reinhardt said, jaw trembling as he stumbled for his words. “Jack was a dear friend of ours and he will be missed by everyone. Every step of the way, we knew what he was feeling and how much he was dealing with at the time. Just because he found a way to move us along and keep us from getting stuck on every death doesn’t mean he was a bad person! He kept us moving and motivated us when we were down! That is what it means to be a leader!”

“I thought being a leader meant looking out for the people closest to you,” Reaper scoffed. “I guess I was wrong.”

“This is a waste of time,” Hanzo said, voice low and harsh. “If the man wishes death, then let him have it.”

“This is not our place, brother,” Genji said. “I suggest any of you who share this opinion leave.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice!” Junkrat said, putting up his hands. “Come on, Roadie! Let’s pack up and head out!”

“We can’t just let him stay here!” Mei said, voice rising with disbelief and causing them pause.

“I don’t intend to,” Ana said. “He’s coming with us.”

“I’m not going anywhere with Overwatch,” Reaper grumbled, haunches rising as he pulled his head down.

“He’s made his choice,” Hanzo said. “Perhaps that is to be respected.”

“As I respected yours?” Genji asked.

“I don’t see the situation comparable,” Symmetra said, tilting her goggles as she stared down her nose at Reaper. “While some of us performed acts that were less than beneficial for the world, we still remained honorable in a way.”

McCree ruffled, glaring at her from under the brim of his hat as he asked, “And who exactly put you in charge of deciding who was honorable and who isn’t?”

“All I’m saying is that I always had a loyalty in this war,” she said. “There was order to be found there. Widowmaker’s alliance was a forced one, and even Hanzo walked a practiced path of discipline. This unkempt man has abandoned his sense of loyalty.”

“Watch your mouth!” Ana snapped, managing to startle Symmetra into widening her eyes. “Gabriel still has loyalty, he’s only lost it.”

“Tch, loyalty?” Widowmaker said. “He’s a mercenary, you know. The cronies he was grouped with almost never returned. Not because he let them fend for themselves, but because he sometimes purposefully put them in the way of danger. All of that talk of what it means to be a leader, and every time Talon allowed him to play that part, he almost always failed.”

“I was never on Talon’s side,” Reaper said. “We only had similar goals.”

“And what was that?” Torbjorn asked. “Revenge on us. Revenge for what, Reyes? What did we do? Did we abandon you, too?”

“In a way,” he said. “Still, choosing his side was enough.”

“Gabriel, there was never any side between you and Overwatch,” Ana said, kneeling in front of him once more. “There was only our side. Together.”

“I’m not so sure others would agree.”

“For everything you did,” Reinhardt began, “I’d still like it very much if you were to rejoin us.”

“See, Gabriel? None of us wanted you gone,” Ana said. “You just were one day and I guess that some of us adapted to that a bit too harshly. I’m sorry about that. But now I need the opportunity to make things right with you.” She reached out a hand.

The way his head slowly lifted was a bit more than eerie. Still, Ana stared unabashedly into the dark sockets of his mask. They held eye contact, until he reared up all at once and swung out a freshly formed shotgun, intent on mowing down as many of the people in front of him as he could. Before he got the chance, however, another loud shot echoed through the room. He fell again, a lifeless corpse once more.

Ana turned around and immediately focused her eye on Widowmaker. She was met with a pair of equally shocked expressions on Tracer and Widowmaker alike. Following their line of sight, she finally laid her gaze on Soldier 76. His gun was raised, finger still on the trigger as he stared down the barrel of his weapon at the body on the ground. It was as if he was daring it to move.

Reaper stayed where he was, dead, and 76 eventually dropped his gun to his side.

“We tried,” he said. “Now let’s get home. It’s been a long day.”

With that, he shouldered his gun for the last time.

* * *

 

Three days later, there was a small celebration to be had at the once abandoned Gibraltar base. There seemed to be a lot to be thankful for with the end of their personal war with Talon. The end of the organization itself for one, and the fact that they were no longer to be hunted as international criminals was also a bit of a perk.

So, if only for that night, some of the members were a bit looser than others. No one could pin exactly who had attached one of Lucio’s amp to Snowball, but whoever it was wasn’t getting any flack from Mei, nor were they going to see any of it from Lucio. Even the stern Pharah was caught nodding her head along to the beat more than once, and had actually been roped into performing some poorly constructed belly dance while McCree tried his best to follow her lead.

Ana laughed and clapped along with the music, though her heart wasn’t really in it. As soon as Tracer crossed the room, pulling Mercy out of the chair beside her, she slumped against the counter and looked across the room.

In the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of a bright red light. Flinching her gaze over to it, she saw a firm silhouette mapped out against the glass. The figure in the upper levels was unmistakably looking at her.

As soon as he had her attention, he turned away and walked out of sight.

With one more glance at the room, just to assure that no one would miss her, she began the careful walk upstairs and opened Winston’s office door.

76 was there alright, head down and hunched over where he sat with his hands on his knees.

"You could join the party, you know," she said. "It's kind of for all of us."

"I'd rather not celebrate the death of my ex, but thanks."

She winced at that, turning her head so that he could only see her eye-patch.

Finally, she said, “You didn’t have to do it."

“I did, Ana. He wasn’t our Gabriel anymore. I know you’d like to think otherwise, but I’d tried so many times before then. He would have killed you right then and there. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you if he succeeded in that.”

“You could have at least come back afterwards.” she scowled down at him. Her glare remained harsh, even as her tone was paced and even on her breath.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“Then why are you here now?”

Carefully, he pulled a hand from his knee and gazed at the side of his chair. The thing he slid into view was an old duffel, which had been left threadbare from the use it suffered over the years.

Finally, he reached inside and pulled out a small, black jar. It was metal with an angel carved into the side with white frames.

“I didn’t want this in the wrong hands.”

“What is that?”

“His ashes,” he placed it on the table beside him. “I- uh- may have done a bit of monitoring in the past few days at the morgue. A lost body, an accidental cremation. No time for them to identify who it was. I guess the Reaper’s secret will always remain a mystery now.”

She stared at the jar with a lump slowly forming in her throat. It was hard to keep her hand steady as she reached out, fingers gently brushing against the dark metal.

“Why would you do this?”

“They would have blown it out of proportion,” he said. “You know how reporters get. One word of this when people were just starting to forget about all of the bad Overwatch had done? Every headline they ever wrote about him would come back with full force. It was better this way. Now only Overwatch will know who the man behind the mask was.”

“No, Jack- why did you bring him here?” she asked. “What do you want me to do?”

76 took in a breath, holding it before he gave a crumpled sigh.

“His dad still lives in LA, you know. In that old house where he lost his wife. The same house he heard his son was dead. I want you to take the ashes there. Tell him whatever you’d like, but I think he’d like to see you again. If it was from you, I’m sure he could take it.”

“Why don’t you take it? You don’t think he’d like to see you too?” she asked. “Tch, you almost became his son yourself.”

“I don’t think I could face him as his son’s lost lover. Not after I became his killer, too.” He turned to look at her. “Please, Ana. Please promise me you’ll do this for me.”

“And what do you plan to do, Jack?” she asked as she leaned back on the table. “Are you just going to go out and settle down on some small farm? Maybe find a retirement home for mysterious vigilantes? What’s your plan?”

He didn’t say anything as he moved his hands to his jacket. It didn’t take much to get it unzipped, and then he was unfastening the light armor under it to finally pull up the final shirt and reveal his torso.

Stretched across his stomach was a nasty scar that blossomed up his chest. Upon closer inspection, the warped, pink skin seemed to be multiple scars that had stitched on top of each other as the years went on, piling one after another until his very body was a battlefield of its own.

“That’s only the outside,” 76 said, pulling the shirt down. “I can barely breathe without this damn mask. My heart’s still beating, but it’s half of what it used to be, literally. The left side almost collapsed on me a few years back. You ever try to find a hospital  in northern canada? Tch, and I thought making it out of that explosion was hell.”

“Jack, what are you trying to say?” she asked, fearing the answer she knew was coming.

“I should be dead, Ana. This mission- the idea of seeing him again… that’s what kept me alive all this time. Now, in the past few days, I’ve started getting a lot slower. My face mask still works fine, but my breath is more shallow. It looks like death is finally catching up with me.”

“So what?” she snapped, “You’re just going to sit there and take it?”

“Ana, death should have claimed me a long time ago.” He turned to look up at her. “It’s time. I gathered up the rest of his stuff- what they could recover. This bag is what I want his dad to have. I burned the rest myself, separate of his ashes.”

“What do you mean by ‘the rest?’”

“I don’t think his father would want a super villain costume.” He stood shakily with a groan and started to move past her.

She snapped out her arm quickly, latching across his chest and pushing him back against the table.

“Don’t you dare try that with me, Jack! What about your own parents? What will they have for the boy they lost and the body they never found?"

"I had siblings, Ana. Gabriel didn't. It isn't the same thing. My mothers are fine where they are. They've moved on."

"You don't know that! Maybe Miguel has moved on too. Why would you want him to have this?"

"You haven't seen him like I have," he stared at the bag. "He needs this Ana. He really does."

"No- No! Absolutely not. You have  _ no  _ right to saddle me with this responsibility and just saunter off into the night to die! You’re going to stay here and we’re going to figure this out.”

“Ana, please-”

“I’m not losing both of you, do you understand me?” For the first time in their conversation, she slipped up and allowed a few tears to prick at her face, pulling the loose sides of her mouth into a harsh frown. “Please, Jack, I can’t lose both of you. Not again.”

He leaned his head down and looked back at the bag, and then to her.

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he pulled something out and quickly pushed it into her hand before clenching it into a fist.

“Take these, Ana. Please, I know you’ll remember me. No need to worry about that. Heck, maybe we’ll meet again in the next life.”

She stared at him, hand tightening around the object in her hand as 76 finally walked past her and out of the room. Only when he was gone did she have enough courage to reveal what it was.

His dog tags, which had remained miraculously pristine over the years, glinted in the light of the monitors. In that faint light, she could just make out his old name printed across the metal.

So, it was with a sigh that she looked down at the bag and the small urn. It appeared that she would have one more mission to complete.

* * *

The cold was as piercing as it was relentless as 76 made his way over to the lonely stone bench. After all of this time, he’d finally managed to shed his coat and hang it up for good. The visor was discarded as well, leaving him more than a bit winded as he settled back against the bench. Delicately, he raised the bottle in his hand to his lips.

A sweet burn, the likes of which he’d long denied himself, was as soothing as it could be. As he drank, he stared up at the vacant, stone eyes of the statue before him.

The thought that it was ever meant to commemorate him seemed so funny. He even let out a weak chuckle and opened up his arms to the statue.

“Take a good look, kid,” he said. “This is what you fall to. And you know what?” He took a moment to point directly at the statue. “You deserve it.”

His arm fell to his side again while the other one dumped a bit more alcohol down his throat.

“Every press conference you just had to go to, every time he came home but you were too swamped with work to meet up,” another drink, “you really deserve it, don’t worry about it.”

* * *

When you run security for a public park, you get used to people camped out on benches.

When he found the scraggly man passed out the first time around, empty bottle at his side, he showed some sympathy. It was early, after all, so it wasn’t like anyone would be coming through. So, he made a point of leaving the man there.

The second time he was making his rounds, however, the man was still there.

So it was with a heavy sigh that he scratched his brow.

“Hey! Buddy! Come on, time to go,” he said, shaking the man’s shoulder.

It had snowed the night previous, leaving the man’s coat cold to the touch, and stiff in the way that only fabric could be. He was coated in a light frost, and that only made the security guard more insistent.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, moving his shoulder. “What, you have a little too much or something?”

It was only when the man’s head lolled over, allowing blue, scarred lips to peak out from under his hat, that the security guard took on a bit more weary appearance.

“Hey! Buddy! Come on man, get up!” He turned his radio on and faced it, “Hey, Delilah, get an ambulance! We’ve got a guy passed out over here!”

Somewhere deep down, the officer knew it was too late for the stranger on the bench. He was already gone.

 

 


	2. [REDACTED]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana pays an overdue visit to Miguel Reyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of didn't want to post this part, but I ended up being coerced into it. Feel free to ignore it if you'd like.

News of a man found dead in a public park didn’t make it too far, but it went far enough for Ana to wonder.

Though she never went to see the deadman, perhaps to provide a positive ID, part of her knew.

Still, she had a mission to complete.

Eyeing the small house from the taxi, she eventually stepped out and crossed up the pathway to the house.

Only after ringing the doorbell did the anxiety that coursed through her body begin to take over. Her hand clutched the strap of the duffle experimentally before the door opened.

The man standing before her kept his eyes downcast for a heartbeat before he realized who was standing before him.

“Ana?” he asked, “Ana Amari?”

“Yes,” she said with a quick nod. “Good to see you, Mr. Reyes.”

“Now now, none of that,” he said, opening the door and ushering her inside. “Call me Miguel, and come inside.”

The warm house was a welcome contrast from the world outside.

She smiled and entered, putting her head down in a thankful nod as she said, “Thank you, Miguel.”

He was young once. Obviously, that had to be true for everyone, but he had always looked too young to be the father of a thirty year old. He was only nineteen when he had his son, after all. Even then, as time went on, he proved himself to be incredibly young in spirit. To see him like this was just a touch too surreal.

“Would you care for some tea?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” she said, following him as he lead her to the kitchen.

Once inside, she saw him grabbing a coffee pot that had long served little use aside from boiling water.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, “Would you mind grabbing some mugs?”

She nodded, setting the bag down by the small table. It sported four chairs, though Ana remembered a time when they’d purposefully crowded even more around it to the point where some couldn’t reach the table top. Good shore leaves spent at this house when there wasn’t another place to be. It almost felt like a second home.

This fact was nailed in when she didn’t have to ask where the mugs were, placing them on the counter as Miguel’s aged hand carefully poured into the cups. A bit of water slopped out when his hand shook slightly, but he didn’t seem to pay it much mind.

“Ah, there we are,” he said before he set the pot back on the coffee maker to keep warm. “Now where did I put that tea?” 

He moved up and began moving around some of the boxes in the cabinet before him. The smell of barely used spices mixed with the scent of the tea packets before he eventually retrieved the box.

It took him a few tries as he smiled thoughtfully at the box, but it was soon open and he dropped a packet in each.

“Ah, there we are? Now let’s take a seat, shall we?”

He reached for the mugs, but Ana took them herself and flashed him a small smile.

He returned it and begrudgingly allowed her to carry the mugs to the table.

Still, he pulled out her seat for her before sitting down himself.

“So,” he settled against the chair with a groan, “what brings you to my humble abode?”

“Well, I figured a visit was long overdue. I’m sorry for not coming sooner.”

“I never blamed you,” he said before letting out an airy laugh. “How could I? I thought you were dead.”

She flinched at the word.

“I had a few things to think about,” she said. “I wish I’d come back sooner.”

“Don’t wish for the past, my dear,” he said slowly before sipping his tea. “Instead, allow us to focus on the present.”

Her chest tightened, as did her hands around the handle of the cup.

“Well, I have some of Gabriel’s old stuff,” she said as she pulled the duffle into her lap.

Miguel looked down at the bag with newfound interest, his eyes wide and hollow.

“I thought they cleaned out his office,” he set his mug on the table, eyes still trained on the bag.

“They did. This was just some stuff left over at some of the other bases. An old friend of ours gathered it up while we were visiting the watchpoints. He thought you might like to have it. He would have come here himself, but he thought you would have liked someone who you knew personally.”

“Well I’d much like to meet him some day,” he said with a grin. “Now please, let’s open it up. A good old fashioned revisit.”

She smiled and unzipped the bag, pulling out the top item. It was a dusty grey hoodie.

“Oh that shouldn’t be a surprise,” he said with a huff of laughter as he reached out and took it into his hands. “He always had about three of these on hand. It was hard to get him to wear anything else if wasn’t for church when he was growing up. I thought it was a habit he would break as he grew, but,” he trailed off and they both fell into an easy laugh.

“Yes, he even kept it under his uniform,” Ana said. “I remember Fareeha stole one more than once.”

“Ah, yes, how is your daughter doing?”

“She’s fine. We have much to talk about now that the war is over.”

He nodded slowly, and Ana almost felt guilty before she pulled out another item. It was a picture Winston actually handed her as she was leaving of Gabriel and McCree. It shouldn’t have been hers to take.

“Oh, that’s Jesse, isn’t it? Gosh, I saw him on the news only a few months ago. It’s hard to believe how grown he is,” he said, taking the photo delicately between his fingers. “That boy was such a kind soul whenever I came to visit.”

“I think he was scared of you the first time,” Ana said with a laugh.

“Well I have been known to be very intimidating,” he said, brow shifting to give Ana a sly look.

She chuckled and looked down with an emptiness in her face. The bag was light, only containing a few more items. As she moved her hand around, her gaze fell on the black urn.

“Ana?”

Miguel’s voice prompted her into looking up, meeting his solemn gaze. Though he was smiling so warmly, his eyes seemed to pierce through her.

“Come now, Ana. What are you really here for?”

Her shoulders rose and she swallowed around the lump forming in her throat.

“Miguel, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“About what?” he asked, tilting his head and leaning on the table.

“About Gabriel,” she began. “You see, back when the explosion happened, search teams couldn’t recover his body.”

Miguel nodded. “I remember.”

“They assumed it was because he was near the heart of the explosion,” she said. “But, recently, we found out that there may have been another reason we couldn’t find his remains.”

For the first time since she’d been there, a light crossed his eyes, bringing the dull brown to life.

“Ana, what do you know?”

His tone was stern, and she couldn’t blame him. This wound was hard for her to open when she first learned of Gabriel’s revival. Still, it had to be said.

“Well, you remember the SEP treatments right? The enhancements?”

“Yes,” he said in a low tone. “I can’t say I had the best reaction to what they did to him. Still, it was Gabriel’s choice.” He shook his head. “Either way, what of it?”

“We think he may have used his… ability to escape the blast.”

“That’s impossible,” Miguel said quickly. “I mean, it would be a nice thought, yes. But, if he was alive, he would have come home at the least.”

“Unfortunately,” she began, jaw tightening, “it’s more than just a nice thought. We know it’s what happened, Miguel. He made it out.”

“No there must be some mistake,” he gave stiff, abrupt laugh that didn’t match the expression that mapped his face. “Are you telling me he’s alive?”

Her back stiffened and she took in a breath. “That’s why I’m here. Miguel,” she paused as her fingers wrapped.

Slowly, she began to pull it out of the bag and slid it gently onto the table. As soon as he laid eyes on it, he knew what it was.

It was obvious from how his face seemed to age years before her. Delicately, he reached up and traced the edge of the angel’s wing.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine… I’m sorry.”

His face twisted before smoothing out as a flow of tears overcame his face. Still, under the tears, he looked calm as he took the urn into his hands and brought it against his chest. Ana considered speaking again when he took in a ragged breath and let it out as a choked half-sob.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I shouldn’t have done this to you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, eyes trained on her. “All of this time, I just… you brought him home. Thank you.”

“I just wish there was more I could do,” she said, hanging her head.

He looked at her for some time. His gaze stiffened and he dared to dart out his tongue and wet his lips. “You said that you knew for certain he’d made it out. How? What happened to him?”

Ana opened her mouth and froze before snapping it shut.

“Ana, please,” he set down the urn once more, eyes locked on her. “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t think you want to know a lot of it,” she said, darting her eyes to the side. “Just know that, after he came back how he did, he kept fighting for what he believed in. He never stopped doing just that, no matter how much everyone threw at him.”

“That would be Gabriel.” Miguel gave an empty laugh. “Did he fight with you?”

“We shared battles.” Technical lies and half truths. Those were the only things that were going to finish this painlessly. “Though, I didn’t see too much of him on the field this time around.”

“Good,” he said, giving another small laugh. “I’m glad you could stand side by side one last time. I know you would have done anything to protect him, the same as he would do for you.”

She took in a rough, shallow breath.

“Yea. We were quite a team, back in the day. When it was just the five of us.”

He dipped his head in agreement before laying eyes on the urn again. Questions unspoken stretched over his face, and Ana was thankful he didn’t ask them. Instead, they remained in a delicate silence.

Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison were finally dead. Reaper and Soldier 76 had ended their war.

It wasn’t total peace by any means, but it would be enough.

Until the next war.


End file.
